When Tom Riddle became Lord Voldemort
by Tomarrylover
Summary: Title says it all. Oneshot. Complete.


Disclaimer: Everything HP belongs to JKR and always will, amen.

Tom Riddle always knew he was special. From a nine year old getting bullied to an eleven year old discovering magic to a thirteen year old prodigy to now. He didn't know exactly what was so special about him, but it was ever the more obvious by the day.

At first he thought it was the devil possessing him like Ms. Cole always said. Then he thought it was his ancestry, (he figured it out in third year, there was no way he was actually a mudblood) but now he knew there was more.

Emotions, they had always been just out of his reach. Close enough to lie about but too far to feel. He was grateful for it though, the children his age seemed too busy indulging in their hormones to learn anything important. While he's had his fair share of hormones himself, it was natural after all, he's never had the urge to indulge in them. There wasn't even an object to which he could direct them towards, all the _children_ around him were too immature to not form stupid ideas about him _caring_ about them.

No, that couldn't happen. It was the December of his fifth year, he couldn't afford a distraction now. He had plans, goals, and contingencies to fulfill. There was one goal he was currently trying to accomplish: get close to Slughorn.

That man was an information well of the strangest magicks there was, despite his brown-nosing, and there was one thing in particular Tom wanted information about. _The horcrux_. The name itself brought shivers down his arms in anticipation. _Immortality,_ the answer to all his problems.

He didn't want it. He _needed_ it. He needed it more than he ever needed anything in his life, and he knew he would never need anything else more than this. He refused to risk the possibility of him dying because of the stupid muggle war going on, who actually cared about the Jews? They were being killed for a reason, though he didn't know what it was, but they must've done something to deserve it. Either way, during the summers when he had to go back to that damnable _place_ , he had no protection.

The never ending drills, alarms, and actual bombs were annoying and he really didn't like it when the ground shook. Not to mention, Grindewald had been attacking the wizarding world while Hitler did his thing. Yes, there was no other option, he _would_ become immortal even if it ripped apart his very soul. (In the future he would've laughed at the irony of it if he was capable of such a thing)

Heading to his potions class, Tom had the sense that he should feel determined, but was at a loss since he didn't feel any physical difference.

(In another universe, one where there was one extra neuron pathway in his brain, Tom would have recognized that emotions weren't a physical state of being, and that there was no way to internally distinguish one from another without having felt it before, and therefore having a reference point to recognize that he was in fact feeling determined at that moment)

But alas, class had started and Professor Slughorn walked in and began his lecture. It seemed they were making Amortentia that day, and each student would be given the opportunity to smell their individual batch. Tom didn't understand the excitement, if someone was in love, surely they would have already recognized the signs by that point and wouldn't need a potion to tell them, right? He was unsure himself what he would smell, was there a scent if you weren't in love? Tom made sure to ask the Professor this, he was curious, and knowledge was power, but was surprised at the answer.

"Tom, my boy, what a ridiculous question! Everyone is in love with someone at some level, even if you don't consciously know it yet! Even the most cold-hearted individuals can make out a scent if they brew the potion correctly! But you bring up an important topic, what of those conceived under the effects of this potion and others like it? It's a lonesome fate, for any child conceived because of a love potion lose the ability to love themselves. If that child were to smell this potion, there would be no scent. That's why it's important for everyone, and I mean everyone, to realize the dangers of such a potion. It's also why I will be making sure no one gets any ideas by vanishing your potion as soon as you are finished, which is when you see the characteristic mother-of-pearl sheen and spiraling steam. Any other questions?"

There were none, and they started brewing. Now Tom was trying to figure out what he would smell, because he was certain he held no love towards anyone. He would have to make something up and hope none of the girls will try to use it against him. While he knew he was not only attractive but popular, that didn't necessarily mean they had to be in love with him, at least, he hoped not.

Time passed faster than it should have, and Tom was able to recognize that his potion was finished. He thought he would be nervous, like all his classmates obviously were, but yet again felt nothing.

(If he had been paying more attention, he would've noticed his left hand twitching and his foot tapping as every minute passed)

He barely managed to avoid cursing Slughorn when the man came from behind, but instead smiled genially and showed the professor his potion.

"Excellent job, Tom! Absolutely perfect! 10 points to Slytherin for a genuinely masterful product! Now bend over the cauldron - carefully now, and take a big whiff of that and tell me what you smell!" The professor gushed, and Tom made sure to follow his instructions perfectly.

 _Nothing. I smell absolutely nothing._ And that was when everything came crashing down. It felt as if he were underwater while everyone else around him was the same as before. He could distantly make out Professor Slughorn asking him what was wrong, and he could feel himself answering negatively while giving him some general smell of soap, oranges or something of the like, then excusing himself to the bathroom. He knew that everyone would be taking his reaction critically, but in the wrong direction. They would think he was embarrassed or in shock of figuring out who he loved, but that wasn't the case at all. He was incapable of love. _He was incapable of love_. While most would find that statement upsetting or even frightening, he only felt the same as before, nothing.

(If he had been looking in a mirror, he would've seen that he was pale and sweating, and that his breaths were coming out harsh and fast, and that his steps were rushed as he headed to the only place he felt safe)

Not soon enough, he arrived at the girls bathroom on the second floor, and didn't even hesitate in opening the pathway to the Chamber of Secrets. Normally, he would've checked to make sure the bathroom was empty, then set up wards so that in case someone did arrive they wouldn't see a great big hole where the sink was, but this wasn't a normal visit.

As soon as he entered the chamber, the ambient magic immediately attached to his person, and worked at calming him down, and by instinct he called the basilisk towards him, needing its presence for some unfathomable reason.

(Albus Dumbledore would have said that Tom was seeking comfort in the basilisk, if he though Tom was capable of such a thing)

" _Master, what's wrong? I smell adrenaline and sweat, did something happen?_ " The great snake spoke to him, alleviating any left over tension.

" _Nothing, my dear. I was just in a hurry to see you, I've made an interesting discovery about myself and couldn't stand the presence of my other classmates._ " He responded smoothly, becoming more calm as he pet the snake by the second.

" _What have you found out?_ " The snake responded curiously, relaxing under his calming strokes.

" _It seems that my wretched mother used a love potion against my disgusting muggle father, and therefore, I am incapable of love. Convenient, yes?_ " He explained, trying not to let his opinion of his _parents_ be heard, and failing.

" _Convenient how? Don't you desire hatchlings in the future?_ " It asked.

" _What's the use of an heir if I'm to live forever? Now I don't have to worry about any bothersome emotions hindering my plans._ " Tom responded.

" _You're lying, Master. You smell of lies, what is your true opinion on this matter?_ " The snake claimed.

" _That was my true opinion, you know that I would never lie to you. I have no need to love, look at how great I am already without it! It is a weakness! I am glad for my squib of a mother, she has done me a great favor despite not living past childbirth!_ " He argued back, suddenly defensive for some reason.

(If it weren't for his pride, Tom would have explained how disappointed he was in the fact that not only did his mother procreate with a muggle, she had to use a love potion to do it. He would have described how hurt he felt at the notion that he was beyond redemption, for Albus Dumbledore always preached of how love could save even the darkest of wizards, but what saving could be done for someone incapable of love? He might have even cried, or yelled, or done _something_ to let out the rage he felt at the unfairness of it all. But instead he held it all in, refusing himself the possibility of letting go, and further pushing himself into the abyss until he just _snapped_ )

" _Come, my dear. It is time to ensure my immortality._ " Tom called, now suddenly heading back towards the passageway he entered from.

" _Yes, Master._ " The great basilisk followed and together they exited the Chamber of Secrets.

Fortunately for Tom, they weren't alone in the bathroom. As soon as he heard the sounds of crying, he acted.

" _Kill._ " He ordered, and watched with an odd feeling in his chest when he saw the girls eyes widen and her mouth open about to scream before falling over dead.

(Much later, he would recognize this event as the first and last time he ever felt guilt)

It wouldn't be until much later into the week, when everyone but him and a few others were gone, that he would create his first horcrux. The use of the darkest magic there was made his skin tingle for days, and he was in a constant state of euphoria that was hard to control, but easily attributed to holiday cheer. He felt a sense of _rightness_ whenever he used the Dark Arts, and he knew he just _had_ to have more.

His diary would make sure that no one ever forgot the Chamber of Secrets, and it would keep the basilisk happy, it was a win-win situation, really. Not to mention, he was _immortal_ , what could be better than _that_?

However, the school was now on the verge of closing once winter break was over, but Tom had a plan for that, halfbreeds didn't belong at Hogwarts anyway. All that was left was finding whatever he could from Slughorn, one horcrux couldn't have possibly been enough, and he needed some answers before continuing in his crusade.

It was now what muggles would call Christmas, but the wizarding world referred to this holiday as Yuletide. Despite Yuletide being as family-oriented as Christmas, Tom preferred the wizarding holiday much more. Slughorn was holding his tenth-annual Slug Club Yuletide party, and Tom was invited of course. Barely holding in his temper as the clock inched forward, Tom waited until all the guests had left.

(He would never remember how that had been the first time he hadn't enjoyed the opportunity to make political connections. If he had bothered, he would have met the current Senior Undersecretary of the Minister of Magic, a man who had been wanting to offer the young prodigy a spot for Junior Undersecretary once he graduated, but only saw an impatient teenager brooding in a corner and changed his mind.)

Tom approached Slughorn, who was considerably drunk, and in the motions of getting yet another drink. Taking advantage of this opportunity, he broached the topic he'd been thinking about for months.

"Sir? I was in the library the other day, and I read about a very interesting type of magic. It's called a horcrux, could you possibly answer a few questions of mine about it?" He asked, making sure to sound curious.

"Horcruxes, you say? That's a very dark branch of magic there. Where did you find this?" Slughorn responded, caught off guard by the question.

"The Restricted Section of course." He answered as if it was obvious.

"Well a Horcrux is an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul." The Potions professor explained like reading a definition.

"I understood that much, sir. But how does that work exactly?" He continued asking, desperately trying not to show his desperation.

"One splits their soul and hides part of it in an object. By doing so, they are protected, should they be attacked and their body destroyed." The man informed him.

"Protected?" He inquired further.

"That part of their soul that is hidden lives on. In other words, they cannot die." Slughorn answered.

"And how does one split his soul, sir?" He asked.

"I think you already know the answer to that, Tom." The professor stated.

"Murder." Tom stated in turn.

"Yes. Killing rips the soul apart, it's a violation against nature!" The man responded.

"Can you only split the soul once? Or is it possible to do it multiple times?" He continued asking.

"There's never been any cases recorded of anyone making more than one or two horcruxes at the most." The Potions professor informed uneasily.

"Isn't seven-" he started saying before getting interrupted.

"Seven? Merlin's beard, Tom! Isn't it bad enough to consider killing one person? To rip the soul into seven pieces... This is all hypothetical, isn't it, Tom? All academic?" Slughorn reassured himself, looking panicked.

"Of course, sir. It'll be our little secret." Tom answered, a smile on his face before leaving the man to his drink.

(When Harry Potter viewed this in a memory, he thought he saw something akin to reluctance in young Tom Riddle's eyes. But when he asked Dumbledore, the old man brushed it off as impossible, for Tom was incapable of love. Yet in his mind, Harry Potter couldn't understand how not being able to love meant that he couldn't feel anything else either, but Dumbledore couldn't have been wrong, right?)

Tom Riddle would go on to become known as Lord Voldemort, the inhuman, immortal, unfeeling, and most terrible Dark Lord in history. But only one of those things was true.

AN: First, I was not promoting or rationalizing the Holocaust in any way besides what I think Tom as a person would think. I do not hold the same beliefs as Tom Riddle and I apologize if I offended anyone. I also know that Amortentia is supposed to smell of what a person is attracted to but that wouldn't work for this story, so I took creative liberty to change it. And, there are direct quotes from HBP, but if you didn't see the disclaimer the first time here it is again: I DON"T OWN HARRY POTTER. I hope you enjoyed my first story! I've also decided to add another chapter soon, bye!


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